


Convincer

by Goanna_Blue



Category: Marvel Noir, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Maybe Requests, Pain Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Wow I can’t believe ur reading this, idk how to tag pure smut lmao, jk u good, maybe a story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-12-30 13:52:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18316553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goanna_Blue/pseuds/Goanna_Blue
Summary: The only Nicolas Cage character you’re allowed to fantasize about.





	1. Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I made this because I was bored, thirsty, and avoiding my other fic (which will be continuing once I get all of this Spider-Man Noir out of my system) I’m either going to make this into an actual story or make it open to requests, haven’t decided yet so... enjoy ya filthy sinners :)  
> (PS this has nothing to do with April Fools, I don’t participate in that crap)

You’re not entirely sure what’s gotten into him, what’s got him so riled up. He’s usually a little more melancholy this time of night, more contemplative. The trials of the the day often weighed heavily on his shoulders, and you’d come to accept that domestic life with the infamous Spider-Man was not very domestic at all. What you are sure of, however, is that he needs to be wearing less clothes. 

 

Peter has barely peeled his mask off, gloves coming soon after, when he presses you against the wall, lips pressing forcefully yet sensually against yours, arms boxing you in as you squeak in alarm. You hadn’t heard him come in, you rarely did, which made the sudden act of affection even more unexpected. Despite your gasp of shock, your arms instinctively pull around his neck, as if they were meant to be there.

 

“Peter-?” You begin to ask, only to be smothered yet again. He’s panting already, body pressing flush against yours, as if it physically burns him to be apart. You kiss him back, giving in to whatever strange desire has possessed him. You love how he tastes, like smoke and black coffee (fucking sadist). His hands move down your sides to your hips, pulling you even closer. Even through the many layers of clothes he insists on wearing, you can feel his taut muscles expanding and contracting with every breath. You shiver.

 

His lips become bolder, parting yours as you instinctively hike one leg over his hip, making his arousal abundantly clear against your thigh. He’s warm, heat radiating off of his body in waves, a welcome contrast to the cold New York breeze that is pouring through the window.

 

“Missed you, doll.” Peter growls, sonorous voice carrying a lust that makes you weak in the knees. He senses this and slides his hands down under your thighs, pulling your other leg up so that you’re fully straddling his waist, now pressed entirely against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, even after all this time unused to the feeling of being lifted like you weighed nothing. It makes your stomach flutter.

 

A sudden need to feel more of him brings your hands to his shoulders, desperately trying to push off his bulky trench coat. He makes a displeased noise as he retracts one hand at a time from your legs, slipping out of each sleeve. As soon as the fabric pools around his legs he’s trailing his lips down your neck, nipping and kissing as he goes. 

 

“Peter- _ah_!” He cuts you off, hands squeezing your ass with a bruising strength that makes you realize how wet you already are. “Could we -uh, please move this elsewhere?” He pauses for a moment, seeming to think. It wasn’t that you weren’t a little adventurous, the two of you had gone at it in much stranger places, but the cinderblock wall of the apartment was starting to get a little less than comfortable.

 

He takes a step back, hands still firmly attached to your thighs, and starts walking as his lips make their way back to yours. You bring your hands up to curl into his dark locks, which are already slick with sweat, and you feel him groan into your mouth, only for his body suddenly leave yours. You let out a breathless laugh as your back hits the cushions of the couch with a bounce, you look up to see him staring down at you, eyes smoldering in that way that tells you exactly what he’s going to say next. 

 

“Something wrong, handsome?” You ask, pushing out your chest just a little as he crawls over you. _Too many clothes_. He kisses you, more gently than before, fingers lightly perching on your chin. He pulls away, barely an inch.

 

“Just trying to figure out how I snagged a dish like you. Can’t seem to come up with anything.” He sits up just a little more, unbuttoning his jacket as you start to blush. It finds its way to the floor, followed quickly by that stupid web-print turtleneck. Your hands instinctively reach for his deliciously toned torso, only to be pinned behind your head. His voice reverberates low through your body, breath caressing your ear, “I love you.” 

 

God, you love that, you love him. No matter how many times you hear it, it always makes your heart stutter in your chest. 

 

“I love you too, Peter. I love you so, so much-“ he’s on you again, hands now roaming up under your shirt, reaching behind you, deftly undoing your bra and making you blush even more. Taking advantage of his distraction, you take both hands against his chest, legs winding around his waist, and push forward. He grunts in surprise as his back hits the arm of the couch, watching closely as you cross your arms down to the hem of your shirt. He loves this part, he loves seeing your body, he loves you.

 

He’s entranced, as always, as soon as the fabric lifts away, leaving your hair pooling around your bare shoulders, perfect skin just begging to be marked. Your previously undone bra falls quickly off of your arms, and god you’re so fucking perfect as you get all bashful now that you’re exposed to him, body flushing a shade darker as you shrink just a little under his predatory gaze. Makes him dizzy. But Peter doesn’t let you be bashful for long, hands pulling your ass all the way into his lap, mouth laving across your collarbone as he resists the urge to bite down just yet. 

 

His hands move to your sides, feather-light touches making you shiver. The contours of his chiseled abdomen press deliciously against your bare stomach and you feel yourself getting even wetter at the feeling. He’s good with his mouth, tongue moving expertly up to your jaw where he presses a chaste kiss before dragging his teeth gently yet firmly down the vein of your neck. It’s overwhelming, and yet not nearly enough, just a promise. 

 

You begin to squirm in his lap, craving the friction that he wasn’t giving you. His hands slide down your back and you buck into him, whining at the amount of clothing still separating your lower halves. Beginning to feel desperate, you start to fumble with his ridiculously cumbersome belt buckle, fingers tracing gently across his toned stomach on occasion. He chuckles lowly.

 

“Impatient, aren’t we kitten’?” Peter murmurs in that horribly charming voice of his, the voice that can make you feel like a fucking goddess, or make you want to get on your knees and worship him in your own way. But now, his belt was halfway off, and your hand was halfway to its destination.

 

His whole body jerks, leg kicking ever so slightly as you grip his already painfully hard member, a lusty groan forcing its way out of his throat. You feel a small spark of pride at the delighted shudder that rolls through his body as you stroke, continuing to push his pants the rest of the way down with your other hand. His dick weighs heavily in your palm, twitching at your ministrations as you nearly drool at the thought of what you know it will do to you.

 

“Well now that’s hardly fair- _fuck_!” You cut him off with a hard squeeze, thrusting into his lap at the same time, just to get some sort of friction. He stands suddenly, shoving his pants and boxers down in one surprisingly fluid motion as you fall out of his embrace and try to do the same. He’s on you before you can even finish, yanking your shorts the rest of the way off and replacing them with his hand. 

 

You nearly scream in relief as he finally, finally gives you something to work with, your whole body convulsing with delight as he crawls over you with new intent, a few stray locks of hair dangling in his sultry gaze. Your legs slide up his thighs as he circles your clit with fervor, his mouth tracing the curves of your face and throat as you gasp and beg. Your arms reach up over his back, fingers digging in just below his shoulder blades as he inserts two fingers into your awaiting heat. 

 

“Peter- _hah_! Fuck, Peter _please_...” you cry, arching your back up into him, wanting to be as close as physically possible. He presses his forehead to yours, looking into your eyes as he curls his fingers inside of you, drinking in the sight of your blissful expressions.

 

“Please what, doll?” He asks, parting your lips for a kiss yet again. You’re panting into his mouth, relishing the feeling of his tongue dominating yours when the pressure of his fingers disappears, leaving you even more wet and desperate than before. You whine at the loss, pulling away from your heated kiss in protest.

 

 “Use your words darlin’.” He tilts your chin up ever so slightly, “I need ya t’sing for me, canary.” Fuck if his voice didn’t get you going, and fuck if you weren’t going to get what you needed. Your legs tighten around his waist as you gaze up at him.

 

“ _Peter_.” You smirk, tilting your hips ever so slightly, so that the head of his cock brushes deliciously against your folds. “I want you to fuck me.” The growl that emanates from him at that is primal, hungry, and undeniably, unbearably sexy.

 

His mouth is all over yours, sucking, nipping, and kissing, as he hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, leaving you completely exposed to him. He knows what he’s doing, knows your body well enough that he doesn’t even need to look, but he still does. He has to. Pulling away, he looks to you for the final nod like the gentleman he is, and then looks to where your bodies start to connect.

 

The first push into your entrance feels heavenly, the tip of his cock dragging just right against your walls. Your nails drag up his back, leaving fiery trails in their wake. He thrusts involuntarily at the feeling, the small amount of pain spurring him on. He loves that, he loves when the pleasure drives your fingers up his spine, he relishes the burn. _He_ _wants_ _more_.

 

He certainly packs heat in more ways than one, and though you’ve taken him dozens of times before, it’s still a process of patience. It tests the both of you. He’s holding himself back, trying so desperately to go slow, to not pin you down and fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name. You’re so beautiful, he doesn’t want to hurt you, he would never hurt you. 

 

Your hands move from his back to tangle in his hair once again as he pushes, slowly, too slow. A whine escapes your throat, legs tightening around him again, pulling him deeper. He grunts in restraint, dick twitching inside you.

 

“Shit, you’re really makin’ me take the rap, huh?” He asks with a strained grin, sweat glistening on his forehead. You arch a brow at him, panting.

 

“If I recall correctly, y-you were the one who stormed in all hot and bothered,” you tease, leaning up to lap at his exposed neck. He groans, hips stuttering, nearly fully seated in your heat and god you feel full already but you know he has more yet to give you, and you know how to get it.

 

Dragging your tongue down to the junction of his shoulder, you taste a combination of salt and gunpowder that is so unabashedly him you can’t help but want a better taste. You bite down, not hard enough to draw blood, but to linger for at least a few days. He practically roars in pleasure, rugged body convulsing with the surprise.

 

Something snaps then, his hands moving lightning fast to pin yours against the arm of the couch. You moan as his hips make that final push. The stretch bares the slightest bit of pain, not that you mind, but oh the sheer pleasure far outweighs it as he thrusts as far as he can into your pussy. 

 

You cry out as he takes up a punishing pace, filling you in a way you know no one else will ever be able to. He’s breathing heavy, watching your face carefully as he moves, hips snapping back and forth. 

 

“Love you so much, babygirl. You’re so good to me, _so_ _good_ \- fuck! You’re so _tight_.” He switches between rushed praises and filthy promises. His mouth is on your neck, then your face, then your chest, sucking bruises into your delicate skin. You vaguely register the sound of the couch creaking under the strain of his intense rutting, but you are far from rational thought at this point. 

 

With your hands temporarily out of commission, it’s a delicious combination of vulnerability and unabashed pleasure. Every push fills that desperate ache inside of you, sending cascades of pure ecstasy up your spine and all the way to your fingertips. Peter’s forehead is against yours again, he loves to watch you, and you find yourself  sucked into those half-lidded gray eyes. 

 

You’re breathing each other in, moving as a unit, your noses brushing as you rock together. His cock pulls against your insides, making you gasp as you feel your abdomen begin to grow taut. He’s good at this, it’s unfair how good at this he is. You want to tell him that, but most words left you several articles of clothing ago. 

 

“Peter! _Ah_!” You scream, pushing weakly against his strong grasp. You want to feel him, you want to wrap around him as you cum. He gives in, one hand moving back to your clit, the other wrapping tightly around your waist. Your arms fly around his neck just like they did when he first arrived. Your breath washes down his back, making him shudder as your nails dig in once again. 

 

“You gonna cum for me, doll face? Feels so good, so _good_ -“ he moans, burying his face in your neck, teeth brushing ever so slightly. 

 

“Yes! Peter please!” You beg, slightly afraid that you were drawing blood with your nails, but also fully aware that he fucking _loved_ it. His pace becomes more frantic, cock starting to brush against that magical spot you never truly thought existed until you met him. Your breasts brush against his toned chest and you can’t help but adore how close he holds you, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. 

 

“I got you darlin’, I got you...” he’s panting, holding back. Waiting for you. You admire his gentlemanly initiative, but that simply won’t do. And somehow, through the sex-induced haze of your mind, you get an idea.

 

“Not until everyone knows who I belong to.” You lean up to whisper. For half a second, probably less, he’s shocked into stillness, completely silent. But in even less time, his jaws clamp down on your shoulder, hips bucking into you with even more vigor than before. 

 

You scream in complete euphoria, legs jerking as waves of ecstasy roll through your body. His eyes snap shut, tasting your flesh as he pants and huffs, pulling you even closer to him. His hips stutter and you feel his seed start to fill you, followed by a long, low groan that shakes you to your center.

 

The pain in your shoulder paired with the raw pleasure in your core transports you to a whole other plane of existence for a few minutes, but you’re brought back to reality when Peter’s body starts to get heavy on top of you as he pulls out. His teeth unlatch from your skin, and you feel him leaving small, sweet kisses all over the tender flesh. Looking up at him, you come down from your high to see the most tiredly adoring face. You smile back, still catching your breath. 

 

“You alright there, sweetheart?” He asks, scooping one arm under you to pull you on top of him. You sigh in relief, while you love being close to him, you didn’t love the idea of him falling asleep on top of you. Though you were starting to miss the warmth.

 

“I’m good, I’m good, just a little chilly now.” You reassure him. You hear a familiar _thwip_ before his trench coat pulls over the two of you. You roll your eyes. Lazy-ass. You’re about to kiss him when you sit up with a sudden realization.

 

“Pete we left the window open, oh god I-” Your eyes are blown wide when he gently grabs your shoulders and pulls you back to him, sensing your increased heart rate. He shushes you gently, soothing you with those crazy gorgeous eyes that he shouldn’t be allowed to have.

 

“S’alright doll, no one can hear us through the sounds of Brooklyn. Someone’ll prolly just think you were getting robbed.” He winks at you, and you give him a halfhearted frown. 

 

“And what does that say about your sexual prowess that my screams of pleasure can be compared to screams of fear?” You ask him, trying not to giggle at his sleep-slurred speech. He throws his head back to bark a laugh, you smile at the sound.

 

“Say what you want kitten, you didn’t seem too concerned ‘bout anyone hearing us pitchin’ woo.” His hands slide up your sides, easing you into tiredness along with him. You decide to let it go, nothing could be done about it anymore. Curling into his chest, you place one last lingering kiss on his lips, of course only to pulled back in for another. 

 

“I love you.” Are the the last tender words you hear before drifting off.

 

 

 


	2. Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most guests brought trouble to the Parker household, but this was a (relatively) pleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again bitches. Nice lil fluffy fluff for y’all. As far as this fic as a whole I have decided... to take requests! But please keep in mind! This will not really be a traditional request fic! Nor will I be able to acquiesce every request!! I will take requests through comments on here, and I will address the requests that I am comfortable, capable, and willing to write. So uh... I guess it’s more like a suggest fic? Idk XD But anywho! I’ve had this chapter in mind for a while and I finally wrote a version that I'm mostly happy with. Enjoy!!! (PS in the chapters I’ve written so far, the reader is from our dimension and can dimension hop, probably via Peni Parker, and she spends days/weeks on end in the noir universe. Also Peter Noir is taller than the other Peters fite me)

You had reached a point at which you decided that Peter could no longer surprise you, that you had learned all of his tricks. 

 

Coming home with a stab wound? Seen it. Apartment full of seemingly meaningless photos scattered across the floor? Boring. Being whisked out of the apartment to a place safe from gunfire? Been there, done that.

 

But this, this surprised you... just a little. 

 

He knocked, that was the first red flag. You almost didn’t answer, the rumble of thunder from outside giving you a nervous feeling, not to mention the fact that bad guys had shown up at your doorstep more than once. But something still drove you to that worn old welcome mat, and you opened the door to see a very drenched, very roughed up Spider-Man, cradling what appeared to be a vibrating fur rug.

 

“Can we keep him?”

 

...

 

There was no trace of humor in his voice, no sign of a punchline, just pure, unadulterated hope and wonder. You said nothing. He was dripping water and blood all over the entry way, mask ripped and trench coat torn. The dog looked up at you slowly, as if asking the question again. 

 

Some sort of hound if you had to guess, his fur was matted with blood and dirt, and he looked up at you with baleful dark eyes, still shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t tell if the red staining the floor was from the pooch or your lover, though you could guess it was probably both. 

 

He had brought home many strange things from his adventures, and this was certainly not the worst of them. It was just a little disconcerting to have the imposing six-foot man appear with a half-dead dog and what appeared to be various hidden injuries.

 

“Are you hurt?” You finally managed to ask. Peter chuckled dryly, starting to sway on his feet ever so slightly.

 

“Answer my question first.” He replied with all seriousness. You cocked your head, eyes narrowing.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me? Yes, of course we can keep him.” He let out a nearly comical sigh of relief as he stumbled past you into the apartment with a slight sense of panic. He narrowly avoided crushing the poor canine as he dropped its trembling body onto the couch, and promptly sunk to the floor. You ran over to him, sliding on your knees as you hit the carpet.

 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Peter-“ you started the usual routine. Remove the mask; he winked at you, remove the coat, then the jacket- of course he was shot, why the fuck not. His head fell back to the couch with a groan. You pulled out your kit; most injuries were usually taken care of by his superhuman healing abilities, but you had taken on the role of his personal nurse when it came to wounds like this.

 

“This is gonna hurt, okay?” You asked, attempting to quickly sterilize the tweezers to the best of your ability, which basically involved wiping them over and over on a napkin.

 

“Promises, promises.” He mumbled, chest heaving as you placed your hand on his abdomen above the wound. The bullet came out seamlessly, _thank_ _god_ _it_ _hadn’t_ _split_ , as Peter gripped the couch for dear life, nothing but a grunt escaping his mouth. You panted in relief as it dropped to the floor, and you immediately started cleaning out the entry point. 

 

“You okay, Pete?” You asked, watching as the dog moved it’s head ever so slightly towards him.

 

“Keen.” He winked at you again.  “Sorry ‘bout the blood.” You rolled your eyes. 

 

“I’ve cleaned blood out of the carpet before, and I’m sure I’ll have to do it again.” You carped, wrapping his waist tightly with gauze. “I imagine this fella needs some tlc?” He sat up a little straighter, finally moving to pet the poor thing.

 

“What he _needs_ is a bath, some good food, and a name.” He replied definitively, that tired but undeniably charming smile pulling at your heartstrings.

 

“What were you thinking? Since I’m assuming you were his rescuer?” You asked with just a touch of sarcasm.

 

“Uh, Benjamin?” He suggested timidly, as if he hadn’t really thought about it. You shot him an exasperated look.

 

“You don’t name stray dogs after deceased loved ones, Peter.” You asserted, moving to pet the pooch as well, wrinkling your nose at the feel of his terribly matted fur.

 

“Shamus?”

 

“One P.I. is enough for this household, strike two.” You teased.

 

“Hey now, you said I could name ‘im.” Peter whined, free hand reaching to curl gently into your hair.

 

“I did, and I’m starting to regret that decision.” You replied leaning into his touch. He thought for a moment, grinning as the dog’s tail started to wag ever so slightly.

 

“How ‘bout... Rosco?” You arched a brow.

 

“Isn’t that slang for ‘gun’ or something?” You asked, knowing you would lose the battle. He shrugged, giving you a smirk.

 

“Final answer.” He pulled himself up onto the couch, bare torso somehow still delightfully tempting even when smattered with blood. “I think he likes it.” Peter declared, puffing out his chest as the pooch’s tail started to wag with gusto. 

 

“I think he’s biased because you’re his hero now.” You teased, looking up at the two of them, very clearly enthralled with each other. 

 

“Sorry to spring this on you, Doll. I just couldn’t leave ‘im there to die in the rain.” His expression turned a little sour. “Getting beat to death in a Brooklyn alleyway is no way to go.” 

 

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve missed having a dog around.” Peter glanced down at you. 

 

“You got pups back home?”  He asked, concern lacing his voice. You shook your head.

 

“Used to, when I was younger. They passed before... everything happened.” You replied with a small frown. “But you know I’m here by choice, right Peter?” He leaned down to kiss your head.

 

“I know, just feel bad that I haven’t made it around to your neck of the woods, kitten.” You grinned ever so slightly.

 

“My family _does_ want to know who’s been taking up so much of my time.” You teased, heaving yourself onto the couch next to him. He chuckled, throwing an arm around you.

 

“And I look forward to enlightening them. Just need to... tie up some loose ends.” He said with a shrug. 

 

“Whenever it happens, uh... they’ll love you.” You added timidly. He barked a laugh.

 

“As long as I leave the ol’ convincer behind, I’m not too worried about it.” He stood with a slight groan, putting a hand to his abdomen at the movement. “But for now I think it’s best to worry about our newest little family member. To be frank he’s starting to smell none too keen.”

 

———————————-

 

Bathing that dog ended up a fucking nightmare. What had appeared to be a beaten, lifeless creature, turned into an absolute gremlin as soon as his paws touched the water. 

 

The first time Rosco jumped out, Peter barely managed to snag him before he could make it out the door... but you weren’t as lucky the second time.

 

A wild chase ensued, apparently Peter’s criminal-catching skills didn’t transfer over to dogs, and you weren’t faring any better. You watched in horror as mud stains tracked over bloodstains, again and again. It was hard to tell if he was running out of fear or just for shits and giggles, you had a feeling it was probably the latter, at least if your injured boyfriend kept tripping over him when he changed directions. 

 

Once Peter was finally able to drive Rosco into your arms, you made a mad dash for the bathroom once and for all. His will broken, he gave in to your diligent hands, scrubbing tangles of blood and dirt from his fur. It took nearly an hour keeled over the bathtub to get him looking like a dog instead of an oversized rat, not to mention the ticks that had to be removed and the wounds that had to be cleaned. When all was said and done, the bath water was opaque brown, and you were sure you smelled of street grime and mold. 

 

“You’re plenty good at this.” Peter rumbled in your ear as you pulled the exhausted little beast out of the tub, body gone completely slack. “But I’m sure you’re joed, why don’t you hit the hay?” He moved around you to take Rosco into his towel-clad arms, swaddling the tired animal close to his chest. His fur was now a shiny black and brown, floppy ears framing two gorgeous gray eyes that absolutely refused to leave Peter’s.

 

“You’re the one who got himself shot, why don’t _you_ go to bed.” You shot back with a yawn. His face softened as he leaned over to you. 

 

“Take a hike, I’ll just be a minute.” He pressed his lips gently and briefly to yours, sending little electric shivers down your spine. A sigh escaped your mouth as you broke apart. He was persuasive.

 

“Okay, just shake a leg.” You said with a wink, giving Rosco a pat as you fled to the bedroom. 

 

It was only about ten minutes before the weight of Peter’s body finally landed next to you, a significantly smaller figure pressing in between the two of you. 

 

“Looks like he’s settling in, yeah?” His voice was thick with tiredness, low and sonorous. “Though he’s foiling my plans just a tad.” He murmured, free hand finding its way to your ass. You giggled.

 

“Your plans were foiled when you came home with a bullet hole, sorry to say.” You clarified as he pulled you just a bit closer. “You’re gonna have to be more careful, you’re a parent now you know.” His hand stilled on your side. 

 

“Sorry, too heavy of a metaphor?” You asked, reaching to feel his face. He covered your hand with his.

 

“I dunno, just weird to think about.” He murmured pressing a gentle kiss to your palm. “Never really thought about bein’ a parent, a _real_ parent... ‘till I met you...” He sounded just a little scared, as if he thought you would reprimand him for saying it. You sighed, hooking a leg over his.

 

“Peter, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me these things, and... I think you’d be a great dad.” You reassured him with a smile he couldn’t see. “But probably not right this second. Let’s just focus on being dog parents for now.” You gave his hand a squeeze which he returned immediately. 

 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to-“

 

“Stop apologizing, Peter. You don’t ever have to say sorry for telling me what’s on your mind.” You reminded him firmly. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t handle the ramblings of the worlds edgiest private investigator.” You could practically hear his confused expression.

 

“I... don’t know how to address that. Uh, thank you? I think?” He replied tentatively. You couldn’t help but laugh, planting a lingering kiss that he eagerly reciprocated, despite Rosco’s quiet protests beneath you. 

 

“I adore you Peter Parker.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t wait to have a bf who will have random ass deep conversations with me *sigh*


End file.
